


Twice Burned

by Enchantable



Category: Roswell New Mexico (TV 2019)
Genre: Brother-Sister Relationships, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Romance, Season 2 Speculation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-09
Updated: 2019-06-09
Packaged: 2020-04-23 06:56:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,500
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19145842
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Enchantable/pseuds/Enchantable
Summary: Isobel brings him into the kitchen, burns him some toast and he feels slightly better.Season 2 speculation fics





	Twice Burned

**Author's Note:**

> Original Prompt: “If we failed to.. if I couldn’t.. if I couldn’t find Alex, Isobel, I don’t know what would I do with myself.” Based on the new synopsis of S2, Alex getting kidnapped. Can we get a happy ending please ❤️

This is not happening.

Michael repeats it to himself over and over because it’s not. This is not happening. He hasn’t spoke to Alex in weeks. Obviously Alex is safe and obviously he’s doubly safe from aliens. The only alien that’s hurt Alex is the one Michael sees when he cannot avoid the mirror. And he hasn’t spoken to Alex in weeks so obviously something else is going on.

“No way,” he says, “Iz, come on. That’s not funny.”

Isobel looks at him quietly for a moment. And then a moment longer. Isobel has great timing, she always has and the window for a ‘gotcha’ of any sort slams shut. She gets up and comes over, sitting next to him. No comments about the smell or jokes about his appearance. She sits and wraps an arm around his shoulders. He can’t remember the last time someone touched him.

“No, see, Alex left and he’s fine. Because I’m here, so as long as he doesn’t come near me he’s fine. Right?”

“Michael, we are doing everything to find him,” she says.

* * *

He leaps up from the couch and she lets her hands fall as he looks around. Someone has to leap out and say gotcha. He won’t do anything, he swears. He needs acetone, he doesn’t care about Isobel’s judgement, this is an emergency. He’s having a heart attack. He turns and she grabs his shoulders. It’s wrong, her hands are too big and too heavy. He doesn’t need her.

“Michael,” She says his name again.

“Where is he?” He asks. Why is the world swimming? Why his his throat on fire? “Come on Iz, this isn’t funny.”

“I know,” she says, “I know it’s not. We are going to find him—“

“He can win this one, okay? I take back what I said,” he can’t exhale a breath, “I take it back just—just tell him it’s not funny anymore,” he can’t exhale, “I take it back,” he repeats, “I’m sorry, I-I-I—“ when he manages to exhale it’s a sob that doubles him over, “I take it back,” he repeats as the tears break free, “Iz! Where is he?!”

Isobel gathers him into her chest as the pain he’s been staying ahead of finally catches up to him. He weeps because Alex is gone and Max is dead and the pain will never stop. Because he’s pushed everyone away and hurt them in the same breath. Isobel rocks him and strokes her hand through his hair and he cries harder because instead of being in the trailer he’s in the arms of someone who loves him. Because he’s never been rocked when he’s cried before and that only makes him sob harder. He cries because his mom is dead and it’s his actions that set of the alarm. And because he covered for Isobel he covered for Noah and all those people are dead. He cries himself into exhaustion, until his head aches and his eyes are sticky. Isobel cradles his face in her hands and wipes his tears with her thumbs.

“I need him,” He croaks.

“We are going to get him back,” she says, “do you believe me?” He nods, “good. We are handling it.”

“What about me? I want to help. I—“ he trails off.

“Michael right now you need to get clean,” Isobel says, “you need to get better first.”

“No,” he says, shaking his head and breaking her grip, “Alex—“

“Alex is being helped,” she says, “you need to focus on getting” better because right now, you need help just as much,” he opens his mouth, “you are not fine,” she says, “don’t say it. Do you trust us? Be honest.”

“Not with Alex,” he whispers.

“I think that feeling is mutual,” she says softly.

He hangs his head, he has no retort handy. He loves Alex, he knows that but he’s done a shitty job of showing it. He has to fix it. God, he has to fix it. But first he has to get the chance and that means he has to attempt to trust someone with the thing that matters most to him. Isobel cups his cheeks again, rubbing circles against his skin as he finally opens his eyes and looks at her. There’s a good chance he’s alive because of her, more than that is usually the case. Shit, he isn’t going to cry again, he refuses.

“Did you stay to keep an eye on me?”

“We’re family,” She says, “of course I stayed to keep an eye on you. I can’t be the only bisexual alien blast running around Roswell.”

He laughs wetly, realizing he doesn’t know the last time he did that either. Isobel brings him into the kitchen, burns him some toast and he feels slightly better.

* * *

 

“Did you burn me toast?”

Michael nods.

Alex looks at him warily and Michael realizes he probably deserves that. Helping to rescue Alex was a start. A baby step. And Alex was fine—actually he was more on his way to rescuing himself than Michael thought he would be. But apparently the alien spaceship exposed him to something and of all things he’s being taken out by a stomach bug. So he and Izzy have moved him in and are helping. Because Alex might not trust Michael but apparently Iz’s mean right hook is Alex’s fault. He didn’t even know they were friends.

“You don’t have to do that,” Alex says quietly.

“I wanted to,” Michael says, “I have a new appreciation for worshipping the porcelain gods.”

Alex takes a nibble of the toast. Michael knows he doesn’t have to do this, he could tell Michael to fuck off quite easily. But he doesn’t. He doesn’t start a conversation either but he eats the toast. Some part of Michael wanted the dramatic reunion, but he and Alex have always been good at the dramatic. It’s the quiet that’s their downfall, it always has been. Alex takes down the toast, but apparently the Antar stomach flu is a mean bitch. The most Michael can do is get some water and meet Alex in the bathroom.

“Too much?” Alex nods, “here.”

He takes the water and spits it into the toilet, reaching up and flushing the mess away. He doesn’t kick Michael out though. Michael knows Alex doesn’t like people seeing his weakness and if he’s made it through eating, Michael doesn’t want to push it. He goes for the door when Alex sets the glass down and pushes himself away and against the wall.

“I’m so mad I can’t look at you,” he says, not looking at him.

“I know,” Michael says.

“I don’t understand how you—“ He exhales sharply, “no I understand. I get it.”

“That doesn’t make it better,” Michael says. Alex leans back against the wall, “I get that.”

“Maybe you were right,” Alex says, “maybe we’re holding onto something that isn’t there anymore.”

“I thought you said I was a miserable liar,” Michael says quietly, ignoring the shiver that works itself down his spine.

“You are,” Alex says, “maybe you had a point,” Michael sighs, “what?”

This he gets more than he wishes he did. How many times was he laying awake or getting drunk or feeling awful and telling himself this was the last time. The next time he was going to ignore Alex and his stupid beautiful face, save himself the pain of watching him walk away. If he was a better person he’d probably say Alex had a point. Maybe if they both walked away this time, it could stick.

“Maybe we’re even,” Michael says, sitting down across from Alex. He sees Alex look at him, even with his head titled back, “you ran, I was a jackass, maybe we just call it even,” he shrugs, “and we take it from there,” Alex opens his mouth, “when you aren’t sick with—“

“Your stupid alien germs?”

“Yeah, those,” Michael says.

Alex closes his eyes and then shoves himself forward. Stupid alien germs. Michael cautiously settles a hand on his back and Alex doesn’t shove him off, even we his muscles contract while he empties his stomach. He flushes the mess away but doesn’t move away from him. Slowly he raises his head. The anger doesn’t leave his eyes but it isn’t worse. Michael can’t say that he’s optimistic this will work out, but he has the lightest inkling of hope.

“Sorry about the stupid alien germs,” he says.

“It’s not your fault,” Alex says finally, “but please don’t sneeze on me. Ever,” Michael nods, “and if you look at acetone without some kind of injury—“

“I won’t,” Michael says.

“I’m serious,” Alex tells him, “I will help you and support you but I’m not going to enable you,” he says, “calling it even means we’re starting from zero. It means we’re working on everything.”

“I’m ready,” Michael says, “but let’s get you well from my stupid alien germs first.”

Alex nods, but it’s slightly less miserable.


End file.
